


Family Matters

by diaphanous87



Series: The Archer [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Baby brother is not so helpless anymore, Brotherly fisticuffs, F/M, Gen, Jealousy, MGiT, Modern Girl in Thedas, Non-Inquisitor OC, Slow Burn, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaphanous87/pseuds/diaphanous87
Summary: In which Alexander Trevelyan fights the urge to murder his brothers, especially Miles. In fact, murdering the second eldest Trevelyan is looking like a good thing. Instead he indulges in a punching contest with Iron Bull. He obviously loses.Brighid has no clue what is going on with these Trevelyan boys but she definitely prefers Alex only because Miles is awkward in comparison.The Breach calls in the distance...





	Family Matters

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Dragon Age. Here have some drama.

** Family Matters **

\---

**The Brothers Trevelyan**

“ _When you deal with your brother, be pleasant, but get a witness.” -Hesiod_

_“You’re looking at that chick like you want to roll her up in a taco and put your hot sauce all over her.” -Qhuinn, Lover Avenged by JR Ward_

\---

It was snowing gentle flakes of white outside Alexander’s cabin. But he took no notice of the morning snowfall. Instead he hovered over his third elder brother who was occupying his bed. Jason, once upon a time, would have swung a fist at him for the implied insult of being fussed over by the baby of the four. But he was still unconscious but healing. Miles was helping to settle his subordinates along with Commander Rutherford and the Templars who had still been here after the opening of the Breach. Now the Templars numbered around one hundred and thirty men and women. It had made Alex’s new mage allies nervous but he would not turn away the battered Templars. He was not a tyrant.

Alex finally sat down in the only chair within the cabin, slumping his broad shoulders. He curled in on himself and pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes.. He did not scream like he wanted. A headache pounded at the back of his skull. Tendrils of pain were slowly winding their way up to his temples. And what little privacy he had was gone with Jason’s unconscious presence. And Miles’ own cot perpendicular to the foot of the bed taunted him with its presence. He was surrounded by two of the three brothers who had once bullied him when they were children.

Maker grant him mercy if Robin showed up as well. Alex would have been compelled to kick the eldest Trevelyan heir down the mountainside. Josephine would scold him fiercely for the action but Alex thought such a thing would have been justifiable. Robin’s presence would be no one’s idea of a good time.

“Ugh…” a moan came from the bed.

“Shit.” Alex frowned and forced himself to stand. He shuffled over to the bed, making sure to be just out of reach of his brother’s long arms. “Jason.”

Murky green eyes, the moss to Alex’s own new leaf green, blinked open and barely managed to focus on the younger Trevelyan. “We… made it,” Jason wheezed. His dark blond curls were plastered to his head from sweat.

“I’ll get a healer,” Alex said gruffly, taking a step back.

“Wait…” The knight-captain, though stripped of his signature Templar armor, was wise enough to not attempt to sit up. “Wait, Alex.”

“What?” He snapped.

“Thanks… for… not leaving us in the snow…” Jason fell back into unconsciousness.

The brunet of the two blinked his eyes in surprise. Then he scowled. “I’m not you,” Alex said spitefully as he spun on his heel to get out. “Don’t die, stupid.” He stepped out and motioned for a scout to come in to keep an eye on his brother. He headed for Madame Vivienne in the Chantry. Alex figured a Pro-Circle mage would be more appealing as a healer for his Templar brother than Solas the apostate elf wanderer.

\---

Miles Maxwell Trevelyan, former Knight-Captain, knew when his baby brother was avoiding him. And he knew that he certainly deserved being ignored. He remembered his last interaction with the youngest of the brothers.

_You’re a disgrace! Are you even a Trevelyan?_

Maker’s breath, Miles had been an awful shit. He had known Alex had felt lost and overlooked. He had known that Alex had been so young back then, barely ten summers. But he had been an arrogant sixteen year old toerag who was about to enter his Templar training, leaving everything that was home behind. And he had taken it out on his most vulnerable brother. And Miles had seen whatever admiration Alex held for him die in those bright green eyes.

_I hate you_!

But Alex was kind for all that he endured in the Trevelyan household. He showed it when he braced Miles up when their paths crossed on the way to Haven. Alex, the tallest now, slung his brother’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him the rest of the way to Haven. The injured and traumatized Templars mingled with the mages in Alex’s entourage and they were shown more kindness by those they had once imprisoned, healing spells washing over them from the braver of the mages. He had recognized the green eyes of another Trevelyan leading the healing . She was certainly not Grand Enchanter Fiona.

So much kindness and it was mostly undeserved.

The blond warrior gingerly sat down on a bench outside the village Chantry. He really should check on Jason but Miles knew that Jason had not woken up again after that initial instance with Alex in the cabin. A runner or scout would find him if the third Trevelyan brother woke again. He paid the mages milling around no mind, knowing Alex would engage him in a fistfight, injured or not, if he stirred up anything. And Miles, for all that he was broader and more muscled, knew that he would lose. Miserably. He had heard rumors of his baby brother’s prowess as a dagger-wielding rogue mercenary/bodyguard, even at the Circle.

“Are you alright?” Someone asked, pausing in front of him. Miles looked up from his contemplation of his boots. He felt his next breath catch in his throat. Eyes the same pale gray as smoky everite stared down at him with bold black eyebrows arched up in question. “You should take a breath,” the elf before him said drily.

“Erk?” Miles coughed. “My apologies,” he rumbled in a rough voice. He cleared his throat. “I am… well, mistress. Might I help you?”

“I need no help,” she replied, cocking her head at him. Her complicated side braid swung down and brushed along the curve of her slim muscled neck. “If anything, you need some help.” Her long ears flicked up and amusement shone in her gaze.

He smiled crookedly at her. “I have received much help already but my thanks, Miss?” Miles needed her name.

“Brighid.” She adjusted the full basket containing elfroot that was perched on her hip. “You’re one of the Templars that came here from Therinfal, right?”

The knight jerked up to his feet, startling her into taking a step back. “I… yes! Yes, I am Knight-Captain Miles Trevelyan.” He sketched a small, quick bow, ignoring the twinge of his protesting ribs and side wound. “An honor, Mistress Brighid.” Maker have mercy, he wasn’t wearing his armor but still introduced himself by his rank. He was clinging to it like a child clinging to their nanny’s skirts. He truly was the worst sort of noble born arsehole who slung around his titles like a weapon and shield and filled with pomposity. Where was Alex to punch him in the head?

“Ah, one of the Lord Herald’s brothers,” she said, the corners of her full lips twitching up in an almost smile. “The honor is mine,” She nodded at him, seemingly unfazed. “How fares your other brother? I trust mine and Alchemist Adan’s healing balms are helping?”

“Jason is still sleeping,” he responded. “You’re a healer?”

“No, just an amateur herbalist. Elfroot and embrium healing balms are all I can really make but they help.” She smiled and it was like the sun.

Miles was a goner. Mother would take a switch to his hide if she ever found out he was stuttering like a farmhand over a pretty elf girl with the palest eyes he had ever seen. She would be screeching about making him a proper match with a human. And Alex would throttle him for daring to ogle one of his people because she obviously was with the Inquisition, thus under his younger brother’s protection. He was too old for such a quick infatuation. Thirty-six years old and he was acting a fool over a tiny but well-formed elf herbalist.

“My thanks,” he finally said after too long of a silence. He wanted the ground to swallow him up. He hadn’t felt like this since his thing with another Templar seven years ago before she had been transferred to Kirkwall. “I must go check on my brother now. Farewell.” Miles went into full retreat as soon as she said goodbye.

\---

“Jason!” Miles gasped as he skid to a halt by his now awake brother. The other blond was propped up by a mountain of pillows obviously pilfered from the Chantry. The door to the cabin slammed closed.

“What has gotten into you?” Jason asked slowly. “Have you found Alex?”

“Alex is doing something but no, I have not seen him yet,” Miles wheezed, leaning against the closed door of the one room cabin. “Jason, tell me I’m a moron.”

“You’re a moron,” the shortest Trevelyan repeated indulgently. He coughed a little. “Why am I calling you a moron?”

“Pretty girl.” He shuffled awkwardly over to sit by the bed in the only chair there.

Jason made a truly epic noise of disgust. “Andraste’s knickers,” he blasphemed. “You’re still this useless because of a pretty girl?! Why haven’t your balls dropped yet?” He snorted. “Maker’s breath. Once again big, bad Miles Trevelyan is felled by a pair of pretty eyes on a pretty face. Well, are you going to tell me about her?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“When you’re healed,” Miles huffed. He sighed. “She’s an elf.”

“... Mother is going to kill you,” Jason said blithely. He grinned at his brother’s look of despair. “What does she look like?”

“She has the palest eyes, Jason. Like tobacco smoke and everite. They have a bit of slant to them at the outer corners. Long eyelashes,” he sighed like besotted idiot. “Cheekbones sharp enough to slice a man. Full lips, pinker than Mother’s favorite roses. Hair as dark as night in the most complicated braid I had ever seen. Her name is Brighid and she is beautiful.” He might as well quit being a Templar and write sappy, bad poetry for the rest of his life.

“What?” A voice growled from the doorway.

“Ah, Alex,” Jason intoned, eyeing the way Miles had frozen in his seat. The second youngest Trevelyan had heard the jealousy in their baby brother’s voice. Oh, this was going to be good. “Hello, Miles was just telling me about a beautiful woman he had met.” He smiled with the knowledge that Miles was about to get a beating he had deserved since they were teenagers tormenting a tiny Alexander. Miles had taken it too far the day he had left to join the Order.

Alex’s expression said it all. He stalked further into the room, locking the door behind him. “Did you touch her?” He snarled. Miles didn’t dodge when he was grabbed by the collar of his tunic and hauled up out of his chair. “Did. You. Touch. Her?!” The last word was accompanied with a shake hard enough to rattle his elder brother’s teeth.

“No,” Miles choked out, terrified of his baby brother for the first time. He nervously eyed the sparking mark on his brother’s left hand. “Ah… Alex…” He gasped as Alex threw him down onto the floor. The next thing he knew, Miles was desperately defending himself in the ensuing tussle. And just as suddenly he found himself flipped onto his belly with Alex straddling the small of his back, his arms trapped by just one of his brother’s hands, and his head pinned down by the other. At least Alex was kind enough to make sure his face was turned so he could breathe.

Jason made sure not to say a word. He saw that Alex was on edge. Violence was writ clear in every line of his body. He remembered about the last time when Alex had beaten a stableboy for attempting to force himself onto an elvhen housemaid. It was known in the Trevelyan household that Alex preferred the elves over his own family. Nanny Hilde had been his favorite even after he was grown. After that incident, Alex had never come back, banished by their mother from the house. Jason had received a letter telling him to never aid him if he ever asked. Though Alex had never beggared himself to any of his brothers or the family. That was when he had turned to mercenary work instead...

“Do not ever touch her,” Alex hissed loud enough for both of his brothers to hear. It was obvious that the warning was for Jason as well. “Brighid McCullough belongs to no one and no one is to touch her without express permission. If I hear even a whisper that you forced your presence onto her, I will destroy you, brother or not. Are we clear?” He leaned more of his weight down onto the blond Templar below him when he wasn’t answered fast enough. “Well?”

“Yes,” Miles croaked. His ribs were sending frantic signals of pain through him. “Please, my ribs…” He gasped when Alex got up and stepped over him. He levered himself up to his knees, panting.

Alexander, tall and proud, turned his back to the occupants of the cabin. He turned his head to speak over his shoulder. “You are here as my guests, unwanted but welcomed nonetheless; however be warned, I will hold you both to the highest standards of conduct as honorable men. Do not think for a moment that I would not punish you if you do not abide.” With that, he nearly flew out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him. The lone window rattled with the force of it.

“So…” Jason eyed his wheezing older brother. “That went well.”

\---

“Boss?” The Iron Bull looked surprised when his employer stomped over to the Chargers, looking like an enraged drake itching for a fight.

“That fight,” Alex ground out from behind gritted teeth, “I need it.”

The grin that split Bull’s face was almost malevolent. “Oh Boss,” he crooned, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“But I don’t want to fuck afterwards,” Alex clarified to the Qunari.

“Don’t worry, Boss. The fisting I’ll give you won’t be the sexy kind.”

\---

Solas clucked his tongue as he magically straightened the Herald’s nose. He had no wish to hear Lady Montilyet’s bemoaning about the ruination of his visage. He ignored the wince crossing the human’s face. The mage might have been a little rough popping everything back into place. The Herald’s right cheek was split and bleeding still but luckily he hadn’t lost any teeth. A giant, Qunari-sized fist print decorated the right side of his face. He made sure to fade it to a faint yellowing mark that was barely noticeable compared to his swarthy complexion instead of the livid purple it had been.

“May I ask why you decided to get into a fistfight with The Iron Bull?” Solas asked.

“Because roughing up my brother even more wouldn’t have been as satisfying,” Herald Trevelyan grumbled. He was still cranky, mostly from having to hide himself as he made his way to the mage’s cabin for a discrete healing.

“Are they not both injured?”

“Exactly why I didn’t completely destroy Miles. And for some Maker forsaken reason, I still love those morons...” Sharp green eyes looked up at him from the human’s seated position on Solas’ bed. “Apparently he had been making calf eyes at Brighid however.” He hissed when Solas pressed too hard on his split cheek.

“I trust,” the elf said crisply, ears low, “That you informed him of the error to do so?”

“I might have threatened to kill him.” Trevelyan answered without care. “I have no idea what my brother is truly like after his time at the Ostwick Circle. I didn’t want to take the chance that he would not take ‘no’ for an answer if he approached her.”

“Wise of you,” the bald elf replied, finishing his healing. “You will still ache. Take this salve for your torso.” He handed him a jar of elfroot and spindleweed ointment. “And try not to take up The Iron Bull on participating in another all out brawl just for the sake of violence.”

“Yes, Solas.” He smiled at the older man. “Thank you.”

\---

**Onward and Upward**

_“I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the ordeal of meeting me is another matter.” -Winston Churchill_

\---

Odd to see mages and Templars mixed together, getting ready to march to the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes to the Breach. Alex saw that Miles was hovering at the edges of the group, checking on Templar and mage alike with a quiet air. The two avoided each other religiously however. They still hadn’t talked about Alex’s blow up six days earlier in their shared cabin. It had made the atmosphere in the cabin stifling and Alex had gotten little sleep as a result. Jason, that asshole, slept like a babe in the nursery. Of course he was still mostly confined to the bed with only short periods of pacing around the cabin. He would not be joining them to the Temple.

The plan was for the Templars to concentrate on suppressing the magic of the Breach itself while the mages would channel their power into Alex’s mark. And Alex was, after being stuffed full, to close the Breach for a final time. It was the craziest plan he had ever heard. And between the debates in the war room with Solas, Vivienne, and Dorian weighing in against Cullen and Cassandra, it was the closest thing to a compromise they would get with Alex’s opinion as the final word.

“We really need an Inquisitor,” he muttered, tired of the debates and having the final decision thrust into his hands. Alex looked up at the call of his name in a familiar voice. He couldn’t help the smile spreading his lips.  
  
“Herald Alexander,” Brighid called and slid to a halt in front of him. “Here!” She shoved something soft into his hands. “To keep you warm,” the elf explained.

Alex unwound the bundle in his hands to reveal that it was a soft scarf, striped green and gold. There were a few, slightly uneven stitches signifying that it was handmade. He stared at it, his mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. “Did you… make this?” He asked, suppressing the tremble in his own voice. Maker, don’t be an idiot.

“Crochet,” she blurted out, blushing. “So yes, I made it.” She wrung her hands. “You need one to keep warm.”

In the middle of the group of mages and templars, Miles stared with a stricken look on his face before he shoved his helmet over his head.

“I… well.” Alex cleared his throat and wound the scarf around his neck. He tucked the ends in and sighed in pleasure. “Thank you, Brighid. I love it very much.” He reached out and cupped her cheeks with gloved hands. “I shall cherish it.” Slowly, Alex let go; the phantom warmth from her skin seemed to seep and linger through the leather gloves. He clenched his hands at his sides.

“I’m glad.” Brighid bit his lower lip. “Don’t die.” And then she ran away to hide in the Chantry with Mother Giselle.

\---

“Wow, that is definitely going into the book,” Varric said to Sera as they watched Alex and his allies march to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

“Holy shit,” Sera breathed. “They are so going to fuck.”

“Don’t be crude,” Blackwall grumbled, crossing his arms. The bearded man sighed in disappointment. “He should have kissed her.”

Sera let out an ugly cackle of delight.

\---

** End of Part Four **


End file.
